Mother of Neverland
by kitsune21809
Summary: If a dream needs a dreamer, what would happen if he lost her? Gravely injured, Peter Pan finds himself battling death itself. Now Neverland is in danger of losing its protector and it's up to Jane to return once again, and breathe life back into the legend.
1. Chapter 1

Okay so, I've been writing on this on and off for a few years. I've lost it to two computer crashes and because I'm incredibly paranoid, I'm posting it here. Also because I've been getting a lot of comments on the YouTube trailer I made for it from people who wanted to read it. It's slow going. Like I said, I've been working on and off for a few years, so don't expect a lot of quick updates. I also have a bad habit of changing stuff when I finally _do_ come back to writing something, so expect that too. If I do change something I'll leave a note but I'll try to keep from doing that as much as I can.

Umm. I had wrote out the story plan for this when I was...14?...I think. I'm 21, now and looking it over I don't really like it anymore, it seems kinda cliche, but I'm gonna work it around some. If you want to see the trailer for this story, it's on YouTube with the same title.

I don't use betas so if you find a grammatical error, please excuse. Normally, I find them when I read back through before a post but I do tend to miss a few, so please bear with me.

Flames are fine, if you have a problem, everyone is entitled to an opinion, but please message me directly and no swearing. Also, please no comments on when I'm going to update next, like I said, it's not a scheduled thing. There's not a lot of art for this story on my DA, other than a grown up version of Peter Pan and Jane, that's about it. I'll get around to doing more. The link is in my profile if your interested.

If you have questions, please feel free to message me. :)

* * *

_Memory is the selection of images - some elusive, others printed indelibly on the brain. Each image is like a thread, each thread woven together, to make a tapestry of intricate texture. And the tapestry tells a story and the story is our past…_

**–Eve's Bayou.**

_The natural state of motherhood is unselfishness. When you become a mother, you are no longer the center of your own universe. You relinquish that position to your children._

**_**–**Jessica Lange_**

* * *

There was a stitch of pain in his side and he faltered mid-flight, his body dropping several feet before he regained himself. Flying had never been so hard. He'd never needed happy thoughts to fly before; it had always come naturally. Now he was fighting to find them. Peter landed clumsily on the rooftop of the Darling household, his feet slipping on the shingles, slick from a recent rain. He sucked in a breath and sat still a moment, his heart rate slowing. His body ached and burned with fever. Sweat dappled his brow and he wiped it away with tired hands. They were shaking as he clenched them.

'Jane. I have to get Jane.'

A tinkling of bells beside his ear caught his attention and he turned, swatting the little, golden fairy away. "I'm fine, Tink." He said tensely. He knew she was worried, but he didn't like to be petted or fawned over. He wasn't a baby. Tinkerbell crossed her arms and glared at him and he glared back.

A light flicked on below them and slowly he crawled to the edge of the roof to peer over. A woman (a small woman, he thought, she wasn't much taller than he was) with red-gold hair walked to the window, brushing the long, damp locks over her shoulder and braiding it with nimble fingers. On the breeze he caught a whiff of her scent; freshly cleaned from her bath, she smelled like soap and perfume. It rustled the gossamer fabric of her bathrobe, revealing petite ankles and slender calves as she perched on the window seat. She was humming, her voice soft and gentle, like a mother's voice. Peter sighed and crept closer so he was hiding just around the window sill. 'Wendy.' He thought wistfully. He missed her.

When she turned, he ducked back behind the wall but he'd seen her face. Sure he'd been tricked somehow, he chanced another look. That was not Wendy perched in the window seat. It was Jane.

Her face and body had changed with age and while she wasn't as old as her mother had been when he saw her last, she most certainly wasn't a child anymore. Something inside him shattered at this realization, because it meant that she couldn't help him after all. He sunk back against the wall; his breath burned in his chest and fought the urge to cry.

Jane turned away from the window when her mother called for her somewhere downstairs. Peter waited until her door closed before burying his head in his arms. He was a strong boy, he didn't cry often but he cried now. Neverland was dying and he thought with childish hope that if he could find Jane and bring her back maybe, just maybe, she could save his home. But Jane – like all the others he'd known and left behind – had grown up. He doubted she even remembered him, let alone believed. And when a dream has no dreamer, it cannot last.

A thousand plus years of stories and adventures and…he was going to die.

Tinkerbell tugged at his hair, and he looked up through watery brown eyes. "It's over Tink." He said and she shook her head. **'Get Jane! Jane can help!'** She said, her voice ringing around him. Peter sniffed and wiped furiously at his nose and eyes. "No! She's too old now."

She looked like she might argue but he took off before she could. With a resigned sigh, she glanced back at the window then at Peter who struggled to fly a steady line. She followed after him, knew how stubborn he could be. But she could be stubborn too, and she was determined to get Jane's help one way or another.

* * *

She dreamed of Neverland. That she was flying over that all too familiar island and it was dark and frightening. The waters, once so clear and blue had turned black. The flowers, once so vibrant and colorful, were gone, replaced by craggy trees with gnarled and knotted limbs.

Hook was fighting Peter again. Jane wasn't really sure how it had started or when, she only knew that they were fighting. The ship was lying on its side in the shallows, a gaping hole in its flank and frozen to the shore by great pillars of ice, sharp and white like the grinning visage of some monstrous beast.

Half the crew lay scattered in the water, swimming to shore while the handful that had already made it were standing on the sidelines' cheering their captain on. Hook was enraged, his face beet red with purple veins ready to pop out of his forehead. His bright red overcoat was gone, revealing the torn sleeve at his right shoulder. Blood blossomed and streaked across the fabric, soaking through the hastily tied bandage and dripping down his arm, making the hilt of his sword slippery in his hand. His shirt hung half open, as if he'd ripped the buttons away in his haste to remove his cravat and tie the wound. His hair was a wild fray of black curls that seemed like the snakes of medusa, writhing in the wind. Hook bared his teeth like a wolf, growling and screaming, his eyes shot through with angry red veins giving him a crazed, frightful appearance.

"Get down here you bastard!" Hook screamed, his sword stabbing at the air around his opponent as he dodged. "I'm going to run you through and tear every limb from your devilish body and feed you to that damnable crocodile!"

Peter, who almost always held a cocky little grin whenever he fought the bumbling pirate, held no such smile now. He was bleeding just under his right rib; the blood dripped down his side and making his clothes cling to his frame. He was slower, almost sluggish and clumsy as he bobbed in the air. Jane faintly noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

Something, a blur of a memory that was not her own, bled into her mind's eye. For a moment, she saw Hook cackling manically to himself in his cabin. A vial, holding a dark, sticky substance clutched in his hand as he poured the contents over his sword. Somehow, she knew that it was poison.

Then she saw Peter laughing as he flitted through the air. Saw as Hook's sword flew up and around, catching him deep in the side and sending him falling to the deck of the ship. She watched with fingers pressed tight over her lips as he screamed when the poison burned through him. As Hook strode cockily, maliciously towards him, kneeling over the boy who scrambled backwards to get away. Hook grabbed him roughly by the collar, twisting his hook securely in the worn material and halting his escape. He pressed a knee into firmly his arm, holding him to the deck and with his other hand, pressed the tip of his sword into the dip above his collar.

Jane, for the short time she had known him, had never seen even the slightest hint of fear cross Peter Pan's face. But as she watched Hook cackle above him, she saw it now. Raw, sheer terror in its purest form settled across his features like a mask. His pupils dilated, his face drained of blood and color, his limbs froze and his throat worked beneath the blade, whether trying to speak or breath she wasn't sure.

She tried to go to him, tried to help but something held her firmly in place though she couldn't see what.

And then, his eyes jerked to the side and his hand grappled across the deck. Hook saw the movement and snarled, drawing back his sword as she fought to break free. She heard both Hook and Peter scream at once but Peter's was different. High pitched and feral as the sword flew across the deck and Hook fell back, the jagged, broken neck of a rum bottle protruding from his shoulder.

Hook, the crew and she herself watched in amazement as Peter staggered to his feet, stumbling backwards until he leaned heavily against the mast. The seas churned beneath them, brought to life by a storm that seemed to come from nowhere. Dark clouds swirled above them, angry and daunting. Hook ripped the glass from his arm shoulder with a cry of fury and as he rose to his feet again, Peter cried out, raising his bloodied hand as if to block the pirate. Instead, the waves rocked and surged as if beckoned by the movement. Suddenly, the ship tilted and rolled.

The memory faded. The fight appeared again, and Peter flew higher, pressing his fingers over his wound to staunch the bleeding. Faintly, Jane wondered where Tinkerbell was as there was rarely a moment without the fairy by his side. She flew closer to Peter, but he was bigger somehow, larger than she remembered. He turned to her, grimacing. "It hurts, Tink." He whimpered and she was suddenly starkly reminded of just how young he was.

Jane frowned. Why had he called her that? She wasn't Tinkerbell, she was Jane. She opened her mouth to tell him so but an explosion of noise interrupted her. Jane looked back toward the beach where Hook squatted in the sand, rifle cocked at his shoulder, grinning. She panicked, tried to push him out of the way but he was too big.

The shot was loud, and it deafened her. Peter screamed as it grazed his shoulder and sent him hurling out of the sky and down into the jungle below. Hook sat stunned, and then his brows lowered as he motioned towards his men. "Get him! I want to be good and sure this time."

The scene changed before she could go after him and Jane found herself in the hideout. Peter sat in his bed, wrapping a crude bandage around his shaking arm while she tended his side. What a brave, young boy he was. Where she would have been a crying mess had she been shot at that age, he was taking it in stride. She didn't know whether to be awestruck or afraid. Wondered briefly what other injuries he could have possibly endured to have built up such a tolerance. "We have to get Jane." He was telling her. "She can help us. She beat Hook before, she can help us beat him again."

Jane shook her head. "But I'm right here, I'm here Peter." But he didn't seem to hear. He stood shakily, sweat dotted his brow. He was very sick, she could tell. He needed rest.

His breathing was labored and though she tried to touch him her hand passed through, as if he were no more than air.

"Peter!" She called but he began to fade away, everything began to disappear. "I'm here Peter! I'm here!"

**'Help us, Jane.' **A voice, soft and gentle, like the ring of bells echoed in the darkness. **'****He's dying! I don't know what to do! Please Jane.'**

"Who are you?" She called out.

**'Wake up, Jane.'**

Jane frowned, confused. "What…?"

**'Wake up…'**

She jolted awake, nearly colliding head first with Tinkerbell who'd been hovering above her, tiny hands perched gently between her eyes. It took a moment to register what she was seeing, and even longer to hear the frantic chiming of the fairy's voice.

"Tinkerbell?!"

The little fairy flew a ways toward the window then back, motioning for her to follow. Jane swept the coverlet aside and stood shakily. "Tinkerbell, what are you doing here? Where's Peter?"

Tinkerbell shouted something at her, but she couldn't understand and it showed plainly on her face. Jane's dream flooded back to her and she scooped the fairy up into her hands. "Tink, what happened?"

Tinkerbell took fistfuls of her own hair in her hands and pulled in exasperation. She waved at the window, mimed choking and falling and then lay still. Jane's heart lurched. "Peter?" Tinkerbell nodded and pointed towards the window.

"He's sick, he may be dying!" Jane's imagination ran wild then. She envisioned him lying prone on a bed in the dark, depths of Hangman's Tree, pale and sickly, his breaths coming shallower and shallower. "I have to help him; you have to take me to him!"

Jane ran to the window and flung it wide. The night air swirled around her, swept into the room, blowing the curtains into a frenzy. A storm was coming; thunder rumbled in the distance. "Wait." She said. She looked down, suddenly realizing that she couldn't remember how to fly. She'd forgotten somehow. Tinkerbell turned back, and the little fairy looked so torn and lost that it scared her. Jane backed away and crossed the room to her desk. She had to breathe, she had to take a moment and think this through. Her mother would be frantic if she woke to find her gone, and…if Peter _was _sick, he would need medicine which was something she didn't have. Looking down at herself she also realized she couldn't go traipsing back to Neverland in her socks and gown again. Remembered all too well how hard it had been last time.

She took a black bag from under her bed. A girl can learn a lot during a war and at seventeen, Jane had already learned so much more than most her age. She often volunteered as a nurse's aide at the hospital, and while she wasn't allowed to help much, she _was_ allowed to bandage and care for the less critical patients fresh from the battlefield. But all the medicine was at the hospital; she'd have to sneak in and told as much to her companion.

Tinkerbell brushed a hand through her bangs and kept glancing at the sky, where thick, heavy rainclouds blotted out the stars. Her fingers fumbled together in front of her nervously. They should hurry, if not, they might not beat the storm.

Jane went to her dresser and changed into a pair of worn trousers she'd hidden away during the war and a button up blouse. Her mother didn't like that she wore them, said that young ladies weren't meant to dress as men do but times were changing. Jane didn't very well see the sense in flying around in a skirt where any male eye could glance up to see her unmentionables. No, she'd had to dress as a boy often enough while scrounging the streets for food and supplies, she didn't feel so perturbed by it now.

While the shirt fit her, the pants were about two sizes too large. She tightened one of her father's old belts around her waist and sweeping her short-ish braid behind her, went to the desk again. Tinkerbell alighted on her shoulder as she scribbled a note to her family.

Stepping back, she read it over, swallowed the butterflies in her stomach and settled the letter over her pillow.

"Ready?" She said to no one in particular. Stepping up on the window seat, she tried desperately to steady her trembling by rubbing hands together. Jane took several deep breaths as Tinkerbell doused her in dust, feeling the slight tingle seep into her skin. Suddenly, the ground seemed to rise up to meet her, mocking her. What if she wasn't able to fly, what if she was too old now?

Tinkerbell motioned for her and the desperate pleading in her face urged her on. Jane closed her eyes and stepped off the ledge.

The wind rushed around her as she fell, a scream froze in her throat and the ground rushed up to meet her.

_It's not gonna work! _She realized. _No! _Peter, Neverland, the Lost Boys, they all flashed in her mind and just as she thought she would hit, she stopped.

She floated mid-air, heart racing, tears burning behind her eyes, fear and adrenaline slicing through her veins. She thought again of them, thought of the hideout, of treasure hunting, of pirates and fairies and pixie dust and Indians and mermaids.

When she opened her eyes again, the ground was far below her and Tinkerbell was patting her cheek worriedly. "I-I'm fine, Tink." She said shakily. "Let's go."

It was difficult at first, she thought that if she ever stopped thinking of Neverland that she'd plummet again to her death and while she wobbled in the air every now and then, she didn't fall. She was more than relieved when the hospital came into view and she landed in the alley behind.

She jiggled the handle on the back door. It was locked but she could pick it easily enough with a bobby pin and wasted no time in doing so. Easing the door open, she peeked inside. She found herself in the kitchens. It was dark, a shaft of light under the opposite door her only sign that anyone was still around. Stepping inside, Jane gently closed the door behind her. A glitter of light caught her attention and she turned her head a little. Tinkerbell hovered by her shoulder, and it was only then that Jane realized that the little fairy emitted a sort of glow about her that could prove dangerous if it were to draw any attention. "Tink, I need you to hide for a little bit. Can you do that for me?" She held open her breast pocket and waited while the little fairy stared hesitantly between it and her face.

"It won't be for long, I promise." She reassured her.

With a gentle sigh, Tinkerbell flew down and settled herself comfortably inside. Satisfied, Jane hefted her bag over her shoulder and quietly stepped into the hall. The storage room was just around the corner, she'd be in and out in no time flat.

She hurried down the hall, ducking into one of the doorways when a night shift's orderly walked by, yawning sleepily and shuffling through an armful of paperwork. When the hall cleared again she all but ran the rest of the way to the storage room. The lights were off when she went in and she flipped them on. She didn't have long, somebody was bound to notice and come investigate.

"Okay, Tink." She said, prying open her shirt pocket. Tinkerbell shot out of her hiding place and settled on a nearby shelf while Jane rummaged through the cabinets, stuffing her bag with what she thought she might need.

"Is he feverish? Does he have chills, what about injuries? Is he injured?" She asked, receiving a frantic nod in return. "Where?"

Tinkerbell mimed a gash under her right arm, where her ribs were and another at her shoulder. Jane paused, her hand hovering over a vial of penicillin. "That dream." She murmured. "It was you. Those were _your_ memories, weren't they?" She asked the fairy.

Tinkerbell paused, bit her lip and wrung her hands in front of her before giving a curt nod.

"And that voice, asking for my help, that was you too?"

Another nod, then an impatient gesture towards the cabinet. "But…"

Voices in the hallway interrupted her and Jane gasped as shadows danced behind the crack under the door. "Hide!" She whispered urgently as she turned back to the fairy. Tinkerbell dove into her pocket and Jane searched frantically around the room for a place to hide herself. The door opened and a tall, lanky man entered, light glinting off his spectacles. Jane's pulse leapt into her throat. It was Doctor Shuler, who wasn't particularly fond of her to begin with. He glanced up from the clipboard he was carrying and frowned.

"Miss Darling, tell me, why am I not surprised to find you skulking about at such a late hour?" He asked derisively. Jane rubbed her arm as she carefully eased herself around him. "I am very sorry, Doctor, I forgot to take inventory before I left and…"

"Be that as it may, Miss Darling, that doesn't give you free roam of the hospital whenever you so please."

She bit the inside of her cheek to hold back a saucy retort and nodded. She was on thin ice as it was and didn't need to lose her job over this. "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again."

He angled his head down at her, his glasses sliding down his nose to reveal two glaring, green eyes. "See that it doesn't."

"Yes sir."

His eyes narrowed as he took her in. "What are you wearing?" He sneered. Jane almost choked as she glanced down at herself then back up again. She'd forgotten she was dressed like a boy. She grinned sheepishly. "Oh, would you look at that!" She laughed nervously. "Why, I-I've gone and…you see I-um." She paused, trying to frantically come up with a solution. "I sleepwalk."

Dr. Shuler quirked a brow at her in annoyance. "Sleepwalk?" He asked irritation etched clearly in the word.

Jane smiled and rocked on her heels. "Oh yes, must have went and dreamt I was a boy again, silly me! You know, one time I dreamt I could fly and leapt right out my window! Broke my arm in two places…"

The doctor removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. "Miss Darling…"

"Oh but I won't bore you with the details. Goodbye, Doctor. Have a pleasant night." She smiled her best smile and fought the urge to roll her eyes as she backed out of the room.

"Indeed." Was his only reply as he turned away.

With the door closed safely behind her, Jane took off in a dead sprint back to the alley. Any minute now and he'd likely discover the missing prescriptions. Tinkerbell poked her head out of her hiding place. Jane ignored her, focusing instead on being as quick and quiet as possible as she maneuvered her way through the halls towards the back. Another nurse crossed her path and she bumped her shoulder causing the box of bandages she was carrying to scatter across the floor. "Hey, watch it!" She yelled as Jane stumbled past her.

"Sorry!"

She heard shouts down the hall just as she reached the kitchen and began to panic. She couldn't get caught! At least when she got back she could lie her way out of losing her job, but if she was caught, she might as well kiss it all goodbye.

She reached the back door, fumbled with the lock a moment then flung it wide. Her feet had left the ground before she'd even left the doorway. She shot up into the air like a rocket, hiding behind a smokestack as the doctor stormed out shortly after. He looked up and down the street for a few minutes then with a growl, he turned and went back inside, slamming the door behind him.

Jane slumped against the smokestack and didn't bother to suppress the laugh that bubbled up from her throat. That had been too close for comfort. Tinkerbell hovered in front of her and patted her cheek impatiently. Jane sighed and shuffled through the contents of her bag. She would have liked to have gotten more, but there was no time and it was impossible to go back now. "It'll have to do." She muttered.

A drop of rain splashed down on her arm, then another. She looked up as rain started to sprinkle around them, steadily growing. "Can you still fly if your wings get wet?" She asked because somewhere she'd heard that if an insect gets its wings wet, it can't fly. She didn't know if the same applied to fairies. Tinkerbell stood on her shoulder, wringing her hands nervously and stared up at the sky. She shook her head and Jane opened her shirt pocket so she could hide inside.

"I'll get us there." She promised. Slinging the bag over her shoulder, she took a deep breath and shot into the sky.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

* * *

By the time she reached Neverland, Jane was cold and tired and soaked to the bone in freezing rain. She wouldn't be too surprised if she too got sick after this whole excursion. The wind whipped at her hair, burning her face and freezing her clothes to her skin. It hurt, she wouldn't deny that, but she harried on anyway.

As the clouds dispersed and the little island came into view, Jane's breath caught in her throat. She'd seen snippets of it in her dream, but she was no less surprised by the chaos that had been wrought. Everything, from the balmy wind to the brightest flower, seemed dead now. Or dying. The sea was frozen, great spikes of ice gripping at Hook's ship which still lay beached on its side in the shallows. The forest was black and frightening below her. The life had been sucked out of the land, leaving behind nothing but a shell of what it once was. Jane closed her eyes and bit her lip. This was awful; it was a nightmare. What had happened to cause this? Tinkerbell emerged from her pocket and Jane followed her to the boy's hideout. The jungle was deathly silent; even the beasts had gone still and it scared her.

Hangman's Tree sat snuggled in a little grove, tucked away so cleverly that it was nearly impossible to find if you did not know where to look for it. The only trace of its existence was a low hanging branch with a tattered noose swinging from its neck, the rest having been hidden away by a curtain of thick, mossy vines. She would have guessed this was Peter's doing, seeing as Hook had found it so easily before. The tree itself, which had always been rather distorted, seemed haunting now. Its limbs like reaching claws waiting for her, urging her into its grasp. Where once the sound of children's laughter had filled the grove, now only silence stifled the air. Where were the boys?

Her heart seized in her chest. Were they hurt too? Had Hook gotten to them as well?

Tinkerbell disappeared inside the twisted trunk and soon after a hidden door opened, revealing a dim light from within. Jane crawled into the opening, thankful that she was still small enough to fit and screamed as her hand slipped on the muddy roots. She slid headfirst down the hole, coming to land harshly at the bottom in a boneless heap. With a pained groan, she flipped onto her back and propped up on an elbow, rubbing her jaw. She'd hit something, she wasn't sure what but she _was_ sure there would be a bruise there tomorrow. Looking around, she found herself in what she remembered was the main room. A few beds scattered here and there, a fireplace built into the tree's girth, a rickety table in the corner, and a couple of other doorways. It's looked relatively the same as the last time she was here and yet…different somehow. An enormous kettle was boiling over the fire. Wrinkling her nose at the noxious steam rolling out of it, Jane wondered what witch's brew the boys were concocting for supper, but once she took a look, she saw that it was only the washing. Unable to remember having ever seen a clean piece of linen on the premises, she found herself not so surprised at the smell.

She didn't see the boys, or Peter for that matter, which worried her. "Tinkerbell." She called out quietly, turning as she heard the familiar jingle from behind a looming bearskin. She pushed it aside and sighed in relief. There were the boys, curled up sleeping on the floor around Peter's bed. Tinkerbell sat by his head, her tiny arms wrapped around equally tiny legs as she stared at him.

Picking her way through the crowd of children lining the floor, Jane settled on the side of the mattress and removed the bag from her shoulder. She swept a hand over his forehead, and her breath hitched. His skin was close to molten and clammy with sweat and dirt. She lifted the blanket to see the outer edges of a makeshift bandage made of some type of plant. In the dim light, his entire side looked greasy wet with fresh blood. The bed was sticky with it and when Jane pulled the leaves aside, her stomach rolled violently. It had become infected, flaming red with spots of black and purple lining the edges of a puss swollen knot. Dread shivered through her with a coldness that was oppressing, and a vision of a sheet draped litter being taken to the brick morgue flashed through her mind. Angrily she pushed the thought away, rejecting the possibility, yet her lips moved in a silent fervent prayer. He groaned painfully when she brushed her fingers around it and flinched away. His shoulder wound, while smaller, was no better off.

"This is bad. I need to boil some water. Tink, get the boys out of here, they don't need to see this." Tinkerbell hesitated, unwilling to leave his side. Jane stood and scooped her up as well. "He'll be fine, Tink. But we have to hurry. If the infection spreads further, he _will_ die."

She fairly flew out of the room while Tinkerbell worked at rousing the boys, and focused on finding a pot in the utter mess that had become their kitchen. She assumed it was a kitchen, there were cabinet sized holes carved into the tree wall, housing all manner of cutlery and dishes, all bent and worn from over use. There was a tub propped on a stool in the corner, where a wooden pipe stuck out of the wall to release a fresh flow of water. She wondered at the plumbing and who had built it. For such young boys, she would have thought it too advance for them. Did they have help somehow? There was even a rudimentarily built oven against the far wall, lined with brick and stone. It didn't make sense; these boys couldn't have been this architecturally advanced.

Finally, she found a wrought iron pot just as the first lost boy emerged from the room, though with her back turned, she didn't notice him until she heard a somewhat frightened voice.

"Jane?"

Almost dropping the pot, she turned in surprise and smiled. It was Slightly, standing timidly by the door. His hood was down and his messy blonde locks fell into his watery blue eyes. He looked scared to death, with a weariness about him that should not be seen on any child. Jane put the pot down. "Hey. Long time no see, huh?"

Maybe it was the familiar ease with which she spoke, or the gentle tone in her voice, or the slight dimple in her smile. Whatever it was, recognition dawned on him. This woman, this grown-up, was _Jane_. Jane was back.

Relief, happiness, excitement, all seemed to cross his face at once and in three quick bounds, he had crossed the distance between them and thrown his arms around her waist. "Jane! You came back!"

This exclamation alerted the others who quickly filed into the room one after the other. And after the initial shock of her appearance wore off, she was tackled again by the mass that was her boys. Jane dropped to her knees, engulfing them in her arms and holding them tight while they cried. Shouts of 'We missed you', and 'I was so scared', and 'Something's wrong with Peter', echoed around her.

"I know." She said, pulling away. "I missed you too. And don't worry, I came to help. Peter will be fine. But for now, I need you to stay in here."

They pouted, some looking a little defiant at being torn from their leader. Jane stood and took the pot again. "I could really use your help. Think you could get some water boiling for me?"

It was Cubby who took it from her with a gleeful shout of, "I'll do it!"

This of course started a fight as every boy clambered to help. Jane put fingers to her lips and blew a shrill whistle until every eye was back on her. "One of you get the water going." She said authoritatively. "I also need clean linens, scissors or a knife, and something I can use for a light."

The boys seemed to stare at her in amazement. No one gave orders but Peter, and though she sounded like Peter, she most certainly was _not_ Peter. But, Peter was sick, so did that mean she _was_ the leader now?

When nobody moved, Jane snapped her fingers. "Well, c'mon! We have to hurry, he's very sick."

That sent them flying into motion, no questions asked. Jane sighed and smothered down a smile. Rolling up her sleeves, she hurried back into the room with her patient. As she entered, she set about pulling the dirtied blankets from the bed and left them in a heap on the floor. His pants, which seemed to be the only thing he was wearing, were filthy, coated in dirt and blood and who knew what else. Slightly, the eldest lost boy next to Peter himself, came in with a large pan of steaming water and a few towels draped over his arms. She quickly blocked the wound from him and he frowned.

"It's ok Jane. I already saw."

She hesitated, but he was trying to be brave and she had to commend him for it. Besides, she would need another pair of hands larger than her fae companion's. "Are you sure?"

He nodded and she pried the cloth away again. He paled and swallowed thickly upon seeing the wound but after closing his eyes for a few seconds, seemed to recover easily. Relief as well as no small amount of pride swelled within her at this. "Hand me those." She said pointing at the pair of scissors stuffed into his pocket. He did and she plucked at the hem of Peter's pants. It came away wet and sticky and she grimaced. "You think you might be able to round up a needle and thread to sew these britches back together if I cut open the seam?" She asked as he went to stand beside her. "It might tear the wound if I try to pull them down, and the infection will only fester if we leave them."

Slightly nodded. "I'll get it from the town if I have to."

Jane set about cutting the seam and paused in thought. "Town?"

"Hook built a town in Pirate's Cove a little after you left. It's filled with nothing but whores and other pirates." He told her, an acidic tone to his voice and she held back a gasp as his foul language. A town? She would have to check into it later, it was likely they had a doctor of their own. And where there's a doctor, there's medicine.

"Don't they have a doctor?" She asked turning back to her work. "Why wasn't he seen when this happened?"

Slightly hesitated in answering, pulling at one of the ears of his fox fur. "Children…lost boys aren't allowed. There's a law." He muttered. She glanced back. "A law?"

He stared at Peter's face and his lip trembled. He was one of the smarter of the younger boys, he knew how bad it had gotten, knew Peter needed help. "If we enter the town and are caught…" He paused, unsure if he should tell her. Would she be angry? Afraid?

Jane snapped her fingers, drawing his attention and said sharply. "Slightly, what is it? What is the law?"

"If we're caught, we'll be hanged." He whispered morbidly. Her movements froze and she turned to him.

"Hanged?" Surely it wasn't true. No one could be so cruel as to exile a group of children upon threat of death? But she remembered the madness in Hook's eyes, knew how he longed for Peter's demise, yearned for it even.

Slightly nodded. "Hook's word is law there. He named himself King."

Jane scoffed and turned back to her patient with a scowl. "I'll go then. I'm no child, they can't exile me."

"But you're a lost girl!" Slightly exclaimed.

She smiled at him. "But they don't know that." Hesitantly, he returned her grin with a grim smile of his own.

She finished cutting the seams and Slightly hastily threw a towel over his leader's bare midsection as she pulled the tattered breeches away, wanting to preserve the older boy's modesty as well as protecting his own naivety. Jane did not give it pause.

"I'll tend his side." She said, handing him a freshly soaked rag. "While you wash the dirt off him."

Slightly nodded, eager to be of assistance. Jane wrinkled her nose as she glanced briefly at the raw flesh of the injury. She placed a hand against Peter's neck, noting how high his fever was. She would have to put a poultice over the wound and draw out the infection. But first she needed to clean it. A tinkling sound caught her attention. Tinkerbell, who had stationed herself on his pillow, softly brushed her hands through his bangs. It was a pitiful sight.

"It's gonna be alright, Tink." Jane murmured distractedly as she gazed down at Peter. And occasional groan parted his lips, and at times his eyes would flicker open briefly as if he wandered through a mild delirium. There were dark circles beneath the thick lashes, and his face looked gaunt and ashen beneath the thin layer of filth that had accumulated there. _Don't let him die. _The prayer went through her mind over and over. _Don't let him die._

Long into the night, they worked over him with only the murmur of an occasional word spoken between them, while in his stupor, Peter groaned and twisted away from the gentle hands that diligently cleaned and worked at his savaged flesh. The muscles jerked in his side as the pain seared through the boy, rousing him momentarily to awareness. He stared with fever-glazed eyes at the small woman bent over him as she stitched the skin back into place. Weakly, he raised his hand from the mattress, reaching out to touch her but the effort cost him much in strength and almost as quickly his arm fell back upon the bed and he retreated again into the soft, dark world of oblivion.

Worry drew her brows together. Jane bit her lip and wished she had some sort of sedative to ease his suffering. She glanced at her assistant, who'd been by her side faithfully throughout the night. He yawned, his eyes bloodshot and worn. But he was a brave little thing and diligent in his work. He slumped with his back against the mattress as he dropped the dirtied rag into the equally disgusting water. Wiping her hands on a towel, she ruffled his hair fondly. "You've been such a big help. Why don't you get some sleep?"

He looked like he might argue but she smiled reassuringly. "The danger is past now; all that's left is covering him up. Go on."

With a shaky nod, Slightly stood and shuffled towards the door where he paused momentarily to glance back at her. Biting his lip, he crossed the room again and hugged her tight, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "I'm glad your back." He said quietly. She released a gentle sigh and held him close for a minute. These boys, as old as they were, were still so young. They needed guidance, someone to rely on, someone to take care of them. They needed Peter.

She watched him go, a tired smile tugging at her lips, then went back to work. She laid a poultice over the wound, and then bound it all tightly in order to press the ragged edges of the freshly stitched hole closer together. Once the balm had been applied, Peter rested more easily, having entered into a deep sleep that even her ministering could not disrupt. She moved to his arm, and pressed her fingers around the flaming edges. Thankfully, this wound was not near as bad as the other. It wasn't infected yet, only swollen and even seemed to be trying to heal. The bullet must have only grazed him then. It wouldn't need stitching but she did apply the balm and wrapped it tight.

She washed the dirt from his face and with his cheeks devoid of the grime he looked more like himself, making her suddenly and acutely conscious of his near nudity. And while she'd just about seen her fair share of naked men from working at the hospital, they weren't Peter Pan.

His bronze-hued skin glowed in the dim lamp light. He was so small, she thought, smaller than she remembered. Tiny little blemishes and scars littered his body, a lifetime of living solely in the jungle imprinted on his skin. Wide shoulders tapering to narrow hips and slender legs. He couldn't have been more than fourteen, fifteen at best, yet he bore the battle markings of a full grown soldier. She wondered as she laid a fresh sheet over him, if this wasn't the first major injury he'd sustained.

The thought disturbed her and seeing Tinkerbell sleeping peacefully by his ear, she left, seeking the cool night air and misting rain to calm her jittery nerves. It was a long time before the shaking in her fingers ceased and she was able sleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Been a while, I know. I've been taking notes and rearranging ideas for this story. I'm gonna finish it, it's just taking a while because I have a short attention span. I'm gonna re-do the trailer, that I know for sure. I've changed things around too much and now the trailer doesn't fit at all. I've also uploaded an older concept design for Jane to my Deviantart. You can find the link in my profile if you're interested.

Since it's been such a long time since I've updated, I want to try to get one more chapter out soon, while I still got ideas buzzing around in my head.

* * *

Chapter 3

Something was tickling her face. A soft, feather light touch that traced her nose, cheeks and eyes and faintly, she could hear whispers all around her. Little voices that came from all sides.

"What happened to her?"

"She looks different."

"I think she's pretty."

"You think all girls are pretty, fatso!"

"Shut up!"

"Guys, be quiet before she wakes up!"

Someone touched her hair, which sometime during the night had come loose from her braid. They tugged gently on the strands and she had to suppress a smile. "Her hair's longer."

"I like it."

Jane felt a smile split across her face without restraint and she cracked her eyes open to find all six boys surrounding her where she'd fallen asleep in Peter's chair. "Well good morning." She said past the heavy lump in her throat. During the night it had become raw and scratchy. Her clothes still clung slightly to her form, damp and horribly uncomfortable. Her temple throbbed with the onset of a headache. Jane grimaced. She couldn't afford to get sick, not with Peter in the condition he was.

The boys stared at her with wide eyes, abashed at having been caught. Slightly touched her arm, his expression grim. "You're not sick too, are you Jane?"

She swallowed and rubbed at the base of her sore throat. "No. I'll be fine." She told him, patting his little hand reassuringly. She turned to the other five faces staring worriedly up at her and smiled. "Could one of you get me a glass of water?" She'd go out into the Neverwood later and find some honey to soothe the ache.

Nibs raised his hand. "I'll do it!"

"No me!" Cried one of the twins. And then Tubby went to push roughly past both of them when Jane clapped her hands. "Alright, that's enough." She said, straining to work her vocal cords. "Nibs was first." At this, the rabbit boy grinned cheekily and dashed off. She would have laughed if she could at the sullen faces that she was left with. The twins dropped to the floor and sat by her feet while Tubby crossed his arms and pouted. She turned back to Slightly. "Has anyone checked on Peter?"

"He's still sleeping." He said.

Tootle's crawled up in her lap, tugging at the strands of her hair, twirling them over and under his little fingers as she kissed his cheek.

Jane nodded. "He likely will for a day or so. We'll have to keep a sharp eye on him, in case his fever spikes. Will you help me?" She asked with a gentle smile, running long fingers through his sandy hair. She wondered if he'd been sleeping well; there were dark circles under his eyes.

"Mm hmm." He sniffed quietly. Jane sighed and pulled his head down to rest against her shoulder. "Shh. He'll be okay." She held him when he wrapped his arms around her and Tootles picked at his hair, playing with the strands like he'd done with hers. Slightly graced the toddler with a tiny, watery smile and tickled his neck until the boy giggled. Nibs returned with her water then, and Slightly released her, swiping furiously at his eyes as young boys do.

She took the drink from Nibs; clear water sloshed in a tin mug, dented and worn from use. The drink was cold and soothing to her throat and helped to temporarily ease the burn and clear her speech. Now, if she could only do something about her clothes. But she'd think about that after she'd looked in on Peter.

One of the twins yawned and leaned against her knee. She wondered what time it was. There was no way to tell underground like this but from their sleepy expressions, she gathered it was probably still very early. She patted his head and raised her arms above her own in a languid stretch until her back and shoulders popped. Her lower back protested the movement, sending sharp jolts of pain up her spine. It was probably not a good idea to spend the night in a chair but it had been either that or the floor. Jane was beginning to think the floor might have been better.

Distantly, she could hear the sound of heavy rain through the thick walls of dirt and wood above them. Thunder rumbled, muffled to their ears and lasted for a long stretch before finally fading again. She glanced across the room, at the hanging bear skin that shielded Peter from her view. She should check on him and change his bandages. The poultice would have had plenty of time to extract the infection in the night and would need to be replaced.

"I'm hungry." Tubby said drowsily, rubbing his belly. He pushed back the hood of his bear skin and scratched his temple, ruffling his already unruly brown hair.

Nibs scoffed. "You're always hungry, fatso." This of course earned a glare from Tubby, who picked up a discarded pillow and threw it at him. "I am not! Buckteeth!"

Jane sighed and shook her head. She'd almost forgotten how tiresome they could be. "Boys, settle down." She said, hoisting Tootles – who had fallen back asleep in her arms – onto her shoulder as she stood. His little head nestled against her neck, a tuft of skunk's fur tickled her skin. "We'll make breakfast after I check in on Peter. In the meantime, why don't you four come up with something to pass the time?" This would keep them busy at least.

One of the twins perked up. "Like what?"

She placed Tootles back in one of the swinging hammocks and rubbed his back soothingly when his grasping fingers held on to her other hand. "Shh." She hushed him, waiting for little eyes to close again and gently pried her hand away. When she was sure he had settled again, she turned back to them. "Well, how about a game?"

This had each of them straightening, drawing a breath in preparation for calling out exactly what game they should play when she quickly added, "a quiet game."

And like little balloons that had been pricked with a needle, they deflated. "That's no fun." The other twin said as Jane busied herself with gathering fresh water and setting it to boil. Slightly – who she noted had been strangely quiet – stood to help her. "You have to be quiet." He said stiffly, rolling the sleeves of his fur pelt up and gathering a few logs from a stack near the stove. "So Peter can rest and get better."

He built a fire in the oven while she pumped water into a kettle. Jane watched him from the corner of her eye. There was a look of grim concentration on his face, like he was trying to be older than he was. She recognized it as a look she often wore as a child. It unsettled her to see it on him. The mood dampened after that and became tense as Tubby, Nibs and the Twins shuffled restlessly by the chair.

Jane hoisted the water-heavy kettle up onto the stove and pushed her hair away from her face. "How about Hide and Seek?" She said, earning half-hearted protests of 'that's for babies' and 'that game's boring.'

Slightly snorted and Jane smiled, taking a tattered rag from where it was hanging off a root to her right. "Not the way I play it."

Ten minutes later, Tubby was wandering around the room, stumbling slightly with the cloth wrapped securely around his eyes. He held his hands out in front of him and clapped twice. There was a giggle to his right as Nibs climbed up onto a thick root next to one of the twins and clapped in reply. Unknowingly, Tubby walked right under him and Jane thought the two boys would fall right out their hiding place trying to suppress their laughter.

Satisfied that they would be kept busy for the time being, she patted Slightly's shoulder and gestured silently for him to follow her into the back room.

She had left a lamp burning low on the far wall the night before and went to it first, turning the flame up and taking it off its hook. Slightly pushed the furs covering Peter's body down as she perched on the bed beside him. Tinkerbell rubbed her eyes from beside his ear, yawning drowsily.

_Poor thing. _Jane thought, rubbing the top of the fairy's head with her finger. "How is he, Tink?" She whispered. Tinkerbell waved a hand by her face as if she were hot and Jane pressed a hand against his forehead. He was still warm, but less so than when she first found him, which was good. But he was sweating, her hand came away wet and Peter released a pained groan at the loss of her touch. She brushed the back of her fingers across his cheek and bent to retrieve her satchel at her feet, where she'd left it half pushed under the bed.

"He's still hot." Slightly said, mimicking her actions and frowning.

"Hmm." He hummed thoughtfully. "I know. It's the infection causing it. We need to try and get it down or at the very least, keep it low. If it gets too high, we'll have to put him in a cool bath and I want that to be our last resort."

"Why?"

She pulled a syringe from the bag as well as a small vial with an amber colored liquid in it that deepened in color when she shook it. Slightly eyed the needle warily as she pushed it upside down in the vial and withdrew the medicine. "Because the water may irritate his injuries further and…" She took a length of rubber and tied it tightly around his upper left bicep. "If he's still sleeping, I don't want to risk hurting him more by trying to move him."

Slightly was silent as she pushed the needle into the crook of Peter's elbow. He watched the amber fluid disappear into the boy's skin and held his leader's limp hand when he flinched in his sleep. Outside the room, he could hear the other's giggling softly as they played and wondered how they could be so happy at a time like this. They're leader, they're _father, _was so sick he wouldn't wake up and they were _playing! _He could die and it was like they didn't even care. It made him angry.

The emotion must have showed on his face because Jane had paused from untying the rubber around Peter's arm and was looking at him. Tinkerbell, who had flown up to sit on her shoulder was looking too, her face pinched with worry. Slightly bit his lip and looked back down, his fingers tightening around Peter's.

Jane reached out and tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. "Slightly…"

"It's like they don't care at all." He said quietly.

Soft hands framed his face and tilted his head upwards. His eyes were watery again but Peter always said boys don't cry, even though Tubby cried all the time. He wanted to be strong, like Peter. He'd never seen Peter cry.

Jane sighed and rubbed his cheeks with the pads of her thumbs as he sniffed. "C'mere." She tugged his arm, pulling him around the bed to her side until he stood in front of her, staring at the ground and wiping his nose with the sleeve of his furs. She put her hands on his shoulders and rubbed them up and down his arms. "It's not that they don't care…" She said, pushing his bangs out of his eyes. "They just don't understand. They're too young…"

He snorted. What an interesting thing to say…too _young. _What did that mean about him then? Was he too old? Peter wouldn't like that. But then, he couldn't like or dislike anything lying there like that.

"Well, they should! This isn't a game!"

Jane's breath hitched.

_This is all just a game to you isn't it? __Well I'm tired of playing!_

Tinkerbell flitted over to land on his shoulder as Jane framed his face with her hands again. "Listen to me." She said seriously. "It's better this way. Peter wouldn't want them or _you_ to worry. He'd _want_ you to keep playing." His lip quivered and she rubbed her thumb across his jawline. "It's okay to worry, but not too much, okay?"

That's when the tears finally came. They cascaded over his cheeks as if a faucet had been turned and Jane pulled him into her arms faster than if he'd jumped into them himself. She hugged him close and rubbed his back as her own throat tightened with restrained tears. Growing up didn't mean growing old and she wondered if any child, even in Neverland, would be able to escape it.

He sobbed quietly into her shoulder; great, heaving sobs that wracked his shoulders and soaked her blouse even further. He wrapped his arms around her neck and held on as if she would disappear, maybe he thought she might. "Shh, I'm right here. I've got you. Let it all out." She crooned, rocking him gently. And when he finally began to settle, it left him drained and sleepy and he slumped against her, sniffling pitifully. She pushed his bangs away from his forehead, hot and sticky from the exertion of his crying and kissed his cheek. "There now. You know, I always feel better after a good cry but…" She smiled at him. "It does tend to leave you feeling rather sleepy afterwards."

He nodded his head and wiped his nose. "Peter says boys shouldn't cry…"

Jane snorted and waved her hand out beside her in a gesture of irritation. "Pfft, of course they do. Even Peter."

Slightly sniffed. "Really?"

Her smile was gentle, motherly. "Of course. You may not see it, but I'm sure even Peter has his moments. Now…" She took his hand and stood, pulling him towards the door while Tinkerbell clutched his ear to keep from falling off his shoulder."You get some rest and when I'm done in here, I'll make us all something to eat. Kay?"

He nodded and let her lead him into the common room where the others paused in their game to look at them. He blushed and lowered his face while Jane held a finger to her lips and waved her hand at them to resume playing. She tucked him into one of the beds cut into a high shelf on the wall and pulled the cover up tight around his neck.

Peter did that sometimes, when he finished telling them a story before bed. Then she kissed his temple and disappeared back behind the bear skin once more. Tinkerbell hovered over him for a second and he listened to the soft tinkling of her voice as she tried to comfort him. He of course couldn't understand but then he didn't really need to. Then she kissed his nose and flew away after Jane. When he could hear Jane whispering to the fairy again, Slightly released a shuddering sigh and curled on his side as his limbs began to grow heavy and his eyes started to droop. He rubbed them; they were still itchy and hot.

Then someone touched his arm and he looked up at Nibs who had climbed up to stand on one of the ladder rungs leading up to the bed. Three other faces followed him and the Twins had to stand on their toes because they were almost too short to see.

"Slightly, are you okay?" Nibs asked him.

He yawned. "Yeah. M'okay."

"Why were you crying?" This time, one of the Twins.

"Because I was upset. I'm fine now."

"Oh, okay."

The other twin touched his face. "Peter will be okay." He said, gently and it surprised Slightly. How did…?

"Yeah, Peter's tougher than all of us. You'll see." Tubby said.

For a long time, Slightly didn't say anything and then he smiled. "Yeah." He said.

Satisfied with his answer, the boys resumed their game and Slightly watched them until his eyes couldn't stay open anymore.


End file.
